possession
by electric caterpillar
Summary: 13yo akagi/nangou, written for a prompt challenge. (formatting now fixed!)


prompt: Akagi, Nangou, forced to share a bed, drunk!fic, crossdressing, in that order this was written with less knowledge of Akagi then i'd like to have been armed with btw ;c

MEMA STOP LAUGHING

* * *

Akagi was not ungrateful to the man; in fact, he nursed a secret softness for his peculiar candor and impulsive kindnesses and certain other attributes of him.

Even so, elements of his custody rang dissonant; the length of his looks, the peculiar proximity with which he stood to him, hips subtly appointed to him, the creeping weight of his large dark hands forever passing his hair, his shoulders, the downy nape of neck, the small of his back.

It did not upset him — frighten him — he was only uncomfortable, a little uncomfortable. Was this the practice of a father and child? How could he say? When had he had a father?

He did not dislike, precisely, but could neither acclimate to their sleeping arrangement. Nangou's flesh was cooking hot in close quarters and he snored dreadfully.

As if summoned, the man at the oven in his thinning undershirt and apron strained across the breadth of his breast peered over his shoulder at the repose child. His smile was large and instant and extremely attractive, if Akagi was honest with himself, but something somewhere on him — the angle of jaw addressing him or the weight of his eye — informed Akagi of an ulterior motive. He did not reciprocate his grin.

"Almost ready," came his grizzled tenor.

Akagi nodded once.

"Are you hungry?"

Akagi looked. He was never hungry. Akagi observed the dark rings under the man's eyes which lent his a doleful look, like a gentle hound, the gentility with which his large hard hands articulated themselves.

He served Akagi his dish of pale broth and flaccid vegetables and grain, tousling his hair in his doting way Akagi tolerated, and sat beside him — not across from him. Their thighs compressed each other.

As Nangou swallowed great exalting swallows of his creation Akagi took an obliging sip and crushed a pearl of rice calculatingly between his teeth. He tolerated also the huge hard male-smelling arm which closed around his shoulders. He did not like it.

As vials of spirits disappeared down amber crystal necks the man's arm loosened and lowered, inch by inch, to rest on Akagi's ribs, his waist, his undeveloped hips demure within the great volumes of inherited troysers. Nangou's palm resolved slowly around Akagi's tiny thigh.

"Eat," Nangou urged, putting down hard the bottle of beer with strenuous effort, "eat! Eat!" but Akagi had never felt less enticed in his little life.

"I bought you something," Nangou announced as he served himself his third helping and third beer a little unsteadily, and poured a shot of hot broth into Akagi's untouched bowl, "I bought you something today. Something nice."

The weave of Akagi's fingers in his lap tightened imperceptibly. He looked hard into the tepid depths of broth. It looked disgusting.

"Should I get it?" He clapped Akagi's shoulder much too hard. He stood, nearly turning over twice the meal and tripping as he trod. "I'll go get it. I'll go get it."

Akagi of course would not look, would not concede an iota of interest. Just now, he thought it would be worth starving to be left alone.

With a bilious grin Nangou arrived at his side and presented him with a package of pink paper.

Drunkenly, he prodded Akagi with its corners until he decided Akagi would not take it and opened it for him, imparting upon the peeling paper the childish delight he found appropriate, and emptied its contents into the child's lap.

In his distress, Akagi found he could not ignore the item — a gauzy gown with a prim crochet collar, punctuated with soft satin bows of posy yellow, and swimming in it translucent stockings and an assortment of ruffled and beribboned objects Akagi found he could not look directly at, soft female-shaped things which shocked him.

His expression he kept perfectly perfunctory as he turned up his eyes to Nangou, dwelling low over him with an expectant smile, blinking hard in the plastic light and his imminent inebriation.

His smile was so good, Akagi thought in despair, so kind, so dear. The man's fingers crept like predators up his bicep.

"Let's get ready for bed."


End file.
